Deliver Me
by Kristen Elizabeth
Summary: The only thing that should surprise us is that there are still some things that can surprise us. GSR fluff with mild Sandle angst.


Disclaimer: Characters contained within do not belong to me. 

Author's Notes: This story is in NO WAY connected to my WIP "All I Have to Do." It's just an idea that popped into my head as I was packing. I had to get it out before my hiatus from posting. I hope it's enjoyable! Take care, and see you soon, hopefully!

* * *

Deliver Me 

by Kristen Elizabeth

* * *

_**The only thing that should surprise us is that there are still some things that can surprise us. - Francois de la Rouchefoucald**_

* * *

Any way you looked at it, this was entirely Grissom's fault. 

Okay, maybe he wasn't responsible for the extreme rain that had been pounding their sinful city for four straight days, leaving roads flooded, if not completely washed away. But everything else…oh yeah. His fault.

After all, it had been Grissom's decision to accept a lecture offer from UT Knoxville, and leave town for a full week. He should have thought ahead, considered all possible scenarios, but he'd been too preoccupied with putting together his presentation on desert insects.

And it was only at Grissom's request/direct order that Greg had dropped by their house in order to check on Sara. Greg was no idiot. He knew he'd been asked because anyone else would have told Grissom to go to hell, in order to spare themselves the Wrath of Sidle.

Oh yeah, and it was Grissom who had gotten Sara pregnant.

So it all boiled down to the fact that, ultimately, Grissom himself…with a little help from Mother Nature…was responsible for the fact that Greg ended up delivering his first child.

He figured he deserved a raise for that. At least.

* * *

_Five hours earlier_

"For the last time, Greggo…I do not care what Grissom told you to do." Sara poked a finger into the center of Greg's chest. "It's just a little rain. And being pregnant does not mean that I need help surviving it!"

He rubbed the spot. "Okay, A: whoever started that nickname needs to be punished. And secondly, I'm just acting on your husband's orders." It was funny that even a year after the wedding, the word 'husband' in connection to Grissom still bugged him. "The cute weather girl said the rain's not going anywhere, so just tell me that you've got candles, batteries and water bottles, and I'll get out of here."

"And just what am I supposed to do with candles and…"

She was cut off by an illumination of lightning, the immediate shock of thunder and the slap of darkness that followed as power for the entire block was lost.

Greg cleared his throat. "You were saying?"

Even though there was very little light left, he had no trouble making out the defeated scowl on her face. "Fine. You can stay until the power comes back on."

* * *

It turned out that they had a lot of candles. Greg didn't want to know who was into the romantic light thing. He was still dealing with the fact that Grissom had sex more than he did. He didn't need to ponder the evidence. 

A big piece of it was already staring him in the face whenever he looked at Sara.

Each time the house rumbled with thunder, she clutched her swollen stomach. "He doesn't like the storm," she explained. "He's kicking like crazy."

"He?" Greg repeated. "So I should return the pink blanket I got you?"

"We're not going to tie him down to societal color restrictions."

He finished lighting the candles; the living room was now bathed in a soft glow. Not that she needed the help glowing. Pregnancy had rounded out her body and her face, curving her angles and giving her an ethereal quality that he noticed more than he probably should.

"Good thinking. My cousin Bubba…well, he prefers to be called Miss Chantilly now…he had a pink blanket for years. Didn't do any damage that we can see."

Sara stuck her tongue out at him, proof that you could be a mother without growing up all the way. "You suck," she informed him.

He nodded. "I know." Glancing around, he noticed the fire place. "Is there wood?"

"It's electric." She started it up, and soon there was another light source in the room, as well as a cheerful warmth.

With the need for light taken care of, there was a moment of awkward silence. Greg shifted his weight from one foot to the other, then back again. He knew he was fidgeting, but couldn't help himself.

Not too long ago, Sara had been one of his good friends. And true, he'd always hoped for more, but they'd at least been able to go out for a drink and shake off the day together, without any weirdness. They'd had a lot in common.

But now, she was married and having a baby. Her life had veered off to a place where he was an outsider. He wasn't sure how to act around her anymore, at least away from the lab.

Sara must have felt some of that, because she fell back on the old standard ice-breaker, "Can I get you something to drink?"

"I'm good." He glanced at the window. "I think the cute weather girl was right about the storm. It's not letting up."

"Are you on tonight?"

"Nope. I was gonna go out, but…"

"My husband forced you into checking up on me," she scowled.

Greg shrugged. "He didn't have to twist my arm."

Her expression softened. "Still, I'm sorry." Before he could reply, Sara winced and put a hand against her lower belly. "I'm all for having a healthy kid, but I am a little tired of having my internal organs used as soccer balls."

"Do you need anything?" he asked. But even as he spoke, he wasn't quite sure what he was thinking she might need. Dramamine? Baby Valium?

Fortunately, all Sara came up with was, "A distraction." She thought for a moment. "How about a game?"

Their choices were limited to Trivial Pursuit and Clue. Since he didn't feel like taking on Sara's sponge-like brain, he chose the latter. At least there was some chance he might be able to narrow things down before she did.

"Was it Professor Plum…" Greg postulated. "In the study…with the rope?"

Sara narrowed her eyes, but displayed the rope card to him. With great glee, Greg checked it off his list, leaving only the pipe and the revolver.

"Never play poker," she advised him, settling back into the depths of the couch. She took a deep breath before continuing, "You give yourself away."

"You're just bitter because I'm winning." He grinned. "Your turn."

Sara struggled to reach the dice. As she leaned forward, her face scrunched up. She gasped for breath and grabbed her stomach.

"Everything cool over there?" Greg asked, apprehensively.

She was biting into her lip when he asked, so it took her a second to reply. "No. I think I'm in the middle…of a contraction."

The cards in his hand fluttered to the floor as he stared at her. "Could you be wrong?"

"Would you like to switch places with me and find out for sure?"

Greg swallowed heavily. "We should get you to the hospital then. Right?"

Sara nodded rapidly. "That would be the course of action I'd prefer." Under her breath, she murmured, "It's too soon."

He surprised himself at how much he didn't freak out. So, she was having the baby. It was bound to happen eventually. All he had to do was get her into his car and drive her to Desert Palm. That was the closest, right? Did Vegas even have another hospital?

"Just breathe," Greg advised her as he blew out all the candles. It sounded like something you told a pregnant woman in labor. "In and out."

"Is there any other way?" she snapped. "And it's okay now. It's passed for the moment." She pushed herself up onto her feet, one hand on her lower back. "I don't have anything packed yet, so we can just go."

Unfortunately, that would be a lot easier said than done.

The rain was still coming down in sheets; literal waves of water pounded them as they stepped out of the house. Greg juggled an umbrella and his car keys, while Sara locked the front door. They both looked out at the street at the same time.

Or what was usually the street at the base of the small incline on which their house sat. Now, it was just a river.

"My car…" Greg located his little Mitsubishi. The water was up over the tops of his tires.

Through the relentless noise of the rain, he detected an edge of panic in her voice. "We can't drive through that." Sara clutched his sleeve, doubling over as another contraction wracked her body.

Now, he started to feel himself freaking out a little.

* * *

"I'm sorry, but with the power outages and the flooding, it'll be awhile before a unit can get to you." The 911 operator was polite as she delivered this news. "In the meantime, keep her comfortable, time her contractions. You can do this by putting your hand on her abdomen. You'll feel her uterus harden and eventually relax. If they get to be closer than two or three minutes, or her water breaks, start getting her ready to deliver. I'll do everything I can to get someone there long before that happens, though. The most important thing is for you to remain calm for her sake. All right?" 

Greg wanted to scream at the woman that it was not all right, but it wouldn't have done any good. "Okay," he sighed. "Thanks."

Sara was lying on the couch waiting for him to come back into the living room. She looked up at him hopefully. "Are they on their way?"

He cleared his throat. "What time is it in Tennessee?"

"That's not the answer I wanted to hear. Greg? The ambulance?"

"Seriously, do you think Grissom's already asleep? Maybe we should, you know, call him. Or something." He sat on the edge of the coffee table, where a little while ago, they'd been playing Clue. "It could be awhile, Sara. I think we should prepare for the worst."

"Oh god." She looked up at the ceiling, blinking back tears. "This isn't happening. It's so fast…too fast."

He hesitated. "A little while ago…you said something about it being too early. Is that something I should be aware of?"

"I'm not due for another three weeks."

When it rained, it really did pour. Greg ran his hands through his hair. "Okay. What are we going to need? Clean towels?"

She nodded. "Linen closet. Second door on the right down the hall."

"Scissors?"

"Fourth drawer past the stove."

"Shit! Boiled water! How are we supposed to boil water? The power's still out!"

Sara gave him an incredulous look. "What on earth do we need boiled water for?"

"Don't you need it to, like, sterilize the scissors?"

"Greg, this is my house we're in. Do you really think I put away kitchen shears that aren't impeccably clean?"

"Good point, but I'd still feel better if I could boil something."

She pushed him away as another contraction seized her. "Towels first. Go…go!"

He returned a moment too late. Whenever he'd heard about water breaking, he'd never realized how much of it actually broke. They were going to need a new couch.

* * *

Grissom was asleep. And he wasn't happy about being woken. When he was informed that his wife was in labor, early, in their living room, with no power, and no medical help besides his youngest CSI, he went from faintly annoyed to frantically anxious. 

Greg immediately handed the phone to Sara.

"It's okay, Gris," he overheard her say as he re-entered the living room a few minutes later, armed with a cold bowl of water and a washcloth. "The contractions are two minutes apart. Still plenty of time for the paramedics to wade our way." She paused. "Of course I'm making light of the situation. Do you want me to panic?" Her words wobbled. "It's early and you're not here. And Greg wants to boil my best kitchen shears."

Whatever Grissom said seemed to relax her. "I love you, too. Go ahead and see if you can get a flight out tonight, but the city really is flooded. I doubt they're landing planes."

Sara moved the phone away from her ear. "He wants to talk to you again."

Greg accepted the phone reluctantly. Grissom's voice was a bit less panicky, but twice as intense. "Is she really okay?" he asked. "She would never tell me otherwise, but I need to know."

"She's in labor," Greg replied. "But I don't see any blood. Not that I've looked!" he quickly added. "I mean, there's no blood underneath her, so I think…that's a good sign. Right?"

He didn't say anything for a moment. "You take care of her," he finally said. "You take care of both of them. Greg…this is my family."

"I'll do my best," Greg quietly promised. "But Grissom…you know…I might have to look. Eventually."

He could almost see Grissom's tired smile. "Under the circumstances, I'll forgive it."

* * *

"Do you feel a burning, stretching sensation?" 

"Fuck yes!" Sara screamed. "And Greg, I swear to god if you don't put that book down and yank this kid out of me, I will…" She left the threat empty as the pain overtook everything else.

Greg set the book down. He'd already pulled on a pair of gloves from one of their spare crime scene kits. Cracking his knuckles, he took a deep breath. "Okay. I'm going to check to see if I can see the baby's head."

Was it sick to admit that once or twice over the years, he'd imagined getting down on his knees in front of Sara? This, however, wasn't the exact scenario he'd had in mind.

Yet, it was funny. He was looking at something that was usually arousing…and he was totally not aroused. If anything, he was just fascinated. "Woah," he muttered. "What the hell is that?"

"Greg!"

He blinked. "Sorry! Um…I don't see anything. I guess we keep pushing?"

"We?" Sara glared at him from over her huge, heaving belly. "We! 'We' would imply that someone other than me is lying here in excruciating fucking pain! There is no 'we,' kemosabe. There's just me giving birth, and you over there, reading out of goddamn book!"

Greg straightened up. "I have a really good memory, you know. I'm remembering everything you're saying to me, and I plan to repeat it all to Grissom when he gets back, just so you know."

"Good," she hissed. "I hope you add a few more explicatives. Maybe a few that I haven't thought of yet."

"I'm sure I can come up with something."

Tears leaked down Sara's cheeks all of a sudden. "I'm really scared, Greg."

"Hey." He took her hand in his. "It's almost over. Pretty soon it'll be like, 'pain? What pain?'"

"I want Gil," she whispered. It was the first time he'd ever heard her use the man's first name. "He should be here. We were supposed to do this together."

Something stuck in his throat. "I'm sorry I'm not him."

As he spoke, Sara's hand shot out and grabbed his arm. He took another quick look between her legs and blinked. "Oh yeah. That's the head. The book says not to push anymore. The baby's just supposed to slide out."

"Are you…sure?" she said between her teeth. "Because…I'd really…like to push."

Greg put his hands underneath the emerging head, as the book had instructed. "Just short breaths," he told her. "I see eyes…oh, that's a nose! Looks like Grissom's. Poor kid."

Sara panted out a laugh. "I love…his nose."

When he saw shoulders, Greg relaxed a bit. "Okay, it should be all downhill from here. Gently push, Sara."

With a rush of fluids whose composition he didn't even care to contemplate, his hands were filled with a wrinkled and bluish human being. "Mother of God!" Greg exclaimed.

It was way grosser than he'd ever imagined.

"Breathing?" Sara asked weakly.

Snapping out of his trance, Greg gently rubbed the baby's back as the book had instructed. Breath filled the child's body and he began to cry.

"Is he okay?"

"He's a little pissed off," he grinned. "But other than that, he looks perfect."

Sara's eyes were watery again. That was a little disconcerting on a woman he'd never associated with tears. She held out her arms and he placed the baby on her stomach. He left the cord attached, again as the book had instructed.

"Hi, baby," she whispered, touching her child for the first time. "Happy birthday."

Greg tore his eyes away and looked out the window. It was pitch black outside, but the sound of the rain was gone. The skies had cleared in deference to the newest life on the planet. Or maybe it had stopped a long time ago and he'd been too preoccupied to notice.

The paramedics arrived ten minutes later. As they flocked around Sara and the newborn, Greg sat back on his heels and pulled off his gloves.

Yep. He really liked having a penis.

* * *

_Two days later_

"Visiting hours are over," the nurse announced. "New mommies and babies need plenty of rest."

To the small group gathered in Sara's hospital room, it was an unwelcome announcement. Warrick happened to have the baby in his arms at the moment; he passed the little boy back to his mother.

"You cooked up a good one," he told her with a wink.

Catherine considered her for a second, before she kissed Sara's forehead in a display of maternal fondness that surprised everyone, including herself. "Welcome to the club," she said. "I'm open for questions 24 hours a day."

Nick kissed her cheek with open affection. "Let me know when he's ready for his first set of spurs."

Greg lingered in the room after the others had left. He and Grissom and Sara exchanged glances, before Greg finally started for the door. "See you soon."

"Greg," Sara stopped him from going. He looked back. Grissom had taken the baby from his wife. "How can I ever thank you?"

"If you think of a way, let me know," her husband said softly. Looking Greg straight in the eye, Grissom nodded. "This isn't something we're likely to forget."

"It's all good."

Sara smiled. "We've been talking. About names." She paused. "If it's all right with you, we'd like to name him after you."

"Me?"

"You brought him into the world," she reminded him. "Maybe if you hadn't been there, he wouldn't be…"

Grissom gently cut her off. "Honey, don't."

Sara sniffed and nodded. "Just let us know if this is something you…"

"It's cool with me. On one condition. Don't call him 'Greggo'. I get the feeling he might not like that." He couldn't make his smile go away.

Rubbing his son's back, Grissom nodded. "Greg or Gregory only. We promise."

At the door, Greg turned around. "Oh, I almost forgot." He pointed at Grissom. "If you ever come near her again with that look in your eyes, she's going to snip you herself, you bastard, you bastard, you fucking bastard." Looking at Sara, he shrugged apologetically. "That's all I can remember."

She nodded with satisfaction. "That's the gist of it."

Greg gave Grissom a parting glare. "Next time, plan your lecture schedule better."

He left them to debate about the odds of a next time.

* * *

Fin 


End file.
